False Impressions
by LauraKatharineX
Summary: A piece on Elphaba as a little girl. Please note: the poem near the end is taken directly from the book, so it isn't mine and I don't claim that it is. Hope you enjoy it!


Elphaba Thropp ran down the lawn which stretched out the back of her home, feeling the wind rush in her ears and tangle her dark hair. Diminutive in size though she was, as a child of five, she could run at an impressive speed. She felt the cool, lush grass between her bare toes and smiled gleefully. Gazing at her small hands, she found it amusing how her skin tone matched the colour of the grass.

"Elf! Elf!" The feeble yelps of her younger sister, Nessarose, who was a little over three years of age, followed after her.

Having been born severely premature, her legs had not developed properly, thus depriving her of the ability to walk. She was sat demurely in a small wheelchair, her fragile legs strapped in braces. Her hair was fiery red and sat in little curls about her face, and her green eyes narrowed as she looked at her older sister, who had started to make her way towards where she was sat, just outside the large, glass doors of their home.

Due to the fact that the sisters' father, Frexspar the Godly, otherwise known as Frex, was the Eminent Thropp, and Governor of Munchkinland, their home was suitably laced with grandeur. Every ornament and item of silverware was polished to perfection, and one could certainly see the high social status and wealth the family possessed in the intricacy of the decor.

"Elf, I want to run with you!" Nessa whined pitifully as Elphaba began to wheel her slowly down the lawn. The name "Elphaba" was obviously far too difficult for a three-year-old to pronounce, so she had settled for "Elf". Elphaba, however, was determined to teach her sister to say her name properly, though this always proved to be in vain.

"It's Elphaba, Nessa. El-pha-ba!" she proclaimed proudly, annunciating each syllable confidently.

"Elf," Nessarose insisted, folding her arms and scowling.

Elphaba sighed emphatically and wheeled Nessa to a stop just underneath a blossoming tree towards the bottom of the garden. There she sat cross-legged in front of her sister and plucked at the grass absent-mindedly.

"Why can't I run with you, Elf?" Nessa asked her indignantly.

"Because your legs can't hold you and you would fall down." Elphaba answered simply.

"Yes but why?" Nessa clenched her hands into tiny fists and leant on her elbows in annoyance.

Elphaba didn't like to speak of it. For one thing, she had already told Nessa several times why she was a handicapped child. For another thing, she didn't like to think about things which would concern her mother. Although she hadn't had much experience of maternal care of any kind from her, she still felt like she should have a mother, and the fact that she didn't made her feel somewhat incomplete.

But she sighed and explained once more, "Well Daddy made Mummy eat milkflowers when you were still in her tummy so you wouldn't come out green. Like me. But you came too soon and your legs were all tied up so you can't walk,"

Nessa stuck her bottom lip out. She was not impressed.

"That isn't fair though, Elf! Why can you walk and not me?"

"I don't know,"

The two little girls sat in each other's company for a while in silence, until Nessa asked,

"Where is Mummy?"

"I don't know," came Elphaba's uninterested answer.

"Is she in Heaven? Daddy said she's in Heaven,"

Elphaba had no response to this. She was far too young to really decide what point of view she held in regards to religion, but she certainly didn't have the same view as her sister, that was for certain. She also found it puzzling as to why Nessa would be concerned about where her mother was. She had died shortly after giving birth to her, so Nessa can't have had much memory of her, if any at all. Perhaps she held a similar view to herself, that they should have a mother and it was strange that they did not.

Again, the pair fell into silence. A short while later, however, they saw Frex marching down the lawn towards them. He wore a fine coat which reached his ankles, and it was ruby red in colour. That morning, he had attended the assembly in town which, as Governor of Munchkinland, it was compulsory to do. It was now late afternoon, and he had returned.

Elphaba and Nessa had been left in the care of their Nanny, however she was elderly and could barely make her way down the stairs without needing a short nap. Thus the two sisters had been left to amuse themselves, but they were used to this and so did not find it difficult.

Frex arrived at where his two daughters were sat, and smiled at Nessa. He took little to no notice at all of Elphaba, who had stood up to greet him. The little green girl gazed at her father in the faint hope that his expression towards her would be something other than disdain, but this didn't happen. Instead, he reached down to Nessa, held her under her arms and lifted her out of her wheelchair to hold her protectively. He wrapped her weak legs around his waist, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"So what have you done on this glorious day, Nessarose?" Frex asked his youngest daughter lovingly, beginning to walk back to the house, holding her with one arm and pushing the wheelchair with the other.

"Well Daddy, Elf kept running and I got sad 'cause I can't run!" Nessa announced, nuzzling her pretty little head underneath her father's chin.

Elphaba nibbled her lip guiltily. She had been told countless times not to "show off" the fact that she was able to run to her sister, who could only watch on helplessly from her wheelchair-bound position. However, she could never resist occasionally doing it, just to feel that she had something which her sister didn't. After all, Nessa had something which Elphaba didn't: their father's undivided attention.

"Well, that's very mean of Elphaba isn't it?" Frex answered Nessa, fixing Elphaba with a cold, hard stare.

"Sorry Daddy," the little green girl mumbled. She reached up desperately to take her father's hand, clutching onto the wheelchair with her other hand for support.

"No, Elphaba, you wheel the wheelchair like a good big sister," came Frex's irked response, resorting to using both his arms to hold Nessa.

Elphaba obeyed, sadly, pushing the wheelchair with both hands until the threesome reached the house.

Frex continued to carry Nessa in through the glass doors, followed mutely by Elphaba, who wheeled the wheelchair just inside the house and stood nibbling her thumbnail nervously. She had a horrible feeling that she would receive yet another scolding from her father, as she frequently did for even the most trivial of wrongdoings.

"Don't stand like that, Elphaba,"

"Go and brush your hair, Elphaba,"

"Close your mouth when you eat, Elphaba,"

"Elphaba, be a good girl for a change?"

Elphaba had come to the conclusion that she simply couldn't do anything right. She walked in the wrong way, she talked in the wrong way, and most of all she looked the wrong way. But she always strived to please her father in whatever way she could, which more often than not was to simply stay out of his way.

"Elphaba, stop biting your nail. It's not a lady-like thing to do!" Frex said sternly to her now, still cradling Nessa.

The little green girl pulled her thumb from her mouth abruptly and fixed her eyes on her feet, which were lightly coated with dirt from outside.

"And go and wash your feet, you filthy girl! What have I said about going outside barefoot? And brush your hair too; it's more tangled than a pfenix nest!"

Elphaba nodded quickly and pattered off upstairs to the bathroom to do as her father had ordered.

She gazed at her reflection, standing on her tiptoes, in the large mirror on the bathroom wall and was suddenly overcome with an undeniable hatred for her appearance. She was so young, but she knew that she was a freak of nature and wished more than anything to be a normal colour.

Nessarose would grow up to be a beauty, with her fair complexion and sunny smile. Elphaba thought to herself that she would most likely grow up to be a hideous, green old crone from whom children, and maybe even adults, would flee in blind terror.

She sighed shakily and felt hot tears trickle down her cheeks. Wetting a flannel cloth, she sat herself heavily on the tiled floor of the bathroom and wiped her tiny, green feet. She rubbed them so hard in an attempt to maybe wipe away their emerald hue that they became sore, which made cry even harder.

Meanwhile, Nanny had awoken from her fifth nap of the day to hear Elphaba's cried of distress echoing from the bathroom, and levered herself from her bed to see what was the matter. Wittering to herself quietly, she hobbled along to find a very tearful Elphaba in a heap in the middle of the floor.

"What in the name of sweet Lurline has happened here, then?" she asked the little girl in her kindly tone, bending down slowly to gently lift Elphaba to a sitting position.

"I don't like being green anymore Nanny," Elphaba snivelled, rubbing her eyes furiously; she didn't like to be seen crying.

Nanny smiled sympathetically and managed to hoist the five-year-old onto her old hip, and carried her out of the bathroom into the child's bedroom. It was the smallest out of the four bedrooms in the house, and was sparsely furnished. A rag rug, made by Nanny, stretched thinly over the wooden floor. A rickety chair sat in the corner, and a small bed slumped along the wall. It was here to which Nanny carried Elphaba, and she sat her down carefully, before lighting the oil lamp on her bedside table.

"Why can't I look like Nessa, Nanny?" Elphaba persisted, gazing steadily into her steel-grey eyes.

Nanny replied, "Because you look like _you_, Elphaba! You look a lot like your mother when she was your age, and she grew up to be a great beauty. You're very like her in spirit too; stubborn as a mule you are!"

The little green girl smiled and sniffed confidently to stop herself crying. She then clutched her raven-black curls in terror.

"Oh Nanny! I haven't brushed my hair! Daddy will be angry!"

"Don't worry, little one. I'll fetch your hairbrush and brush it for you,"

Nanny did as she said and got Elphaba's small wooden hairbrush from her bedside table. Gently, she ran it through the little girl's tangled locks, not pulling even one solitary hair.

Elphaba enjoyed having her hair brushed. She could never quite reach the bottom of it when she tried to do it herself, as it was long and her arms were small. Nanny, however, managed to comb it until it was silky smooth and glossy, which she liked very much.

Before too long, Elphaba's hair was thoroughly brushed and sat in gleaming curls around her shoulders. Nanny kissed her on top of her head tenderly and helped her off her bed to go downstairs.

The pair stood in the doorway of the dining room to see Frex sat down and reading to Nessa, who was back in her wheelchair, from a large story book. Elphaba felt a pang in the pit of her stomach. Why had he never read to her? She clutched onto Nanny's hand anxiously.

Nessa turned round to face her sister and Nanny.

"Elf! Come and listen to the story!" she exclaimed brightly, treating Elphaba to one of her sunniest smiles.

Frex frowned slightly, "No, Nessa. Elphaba has been a naughty girl. She must go to bed with a cup of milk straight away," he directed this mainly at Elphaba, who fiddled nervously with the corner of her dress.

"May I ask what young Elphaba as done which is so terrible?" Nanny questioned firmly, jutting her chin out.

Frex answered coolly, "She has been running around showing off to her sister, when she has been specifically instructed not to do so,"

Tutting, Nanny snapped sarcastically, "Oh may the wrath of Saint Lurline herself smite her down! Goodness me, Frex, she's just a child!"

The governor's nostrils flared in outrage, "She may be a child, Nanny, but she must learn not to be disobedient!"

Elphaba shook her head frantically at Nanny to try to stop her from arguing any further; she didn't like it when her father grew angry. Nanny understood this and simply granted Frex with a perturbed "Hmph!"

After getting a cup of milk, Nanny led Elphaba back upstairs and into her bedroom, and helped her into her nightdress. The little girl then gulped down her drink thirstily, licking her lips in satisfaction when she had finished. By this time the sun was low in the sky and the evening air was warm and heavy.

"Bedtime," Nanny announced firmly, and tucked Elphaba into her bed sheets.

"Nanny, can I have a story?" Elphaba requested, clutching her blanket which was pulled tightly under her chin, and blinking up at her with her dark, glinting eyes.

"Well it seems only fair!" cried Nanny emphatically, and plopped herself down next to Elphaba on her bed to begin telling her a story. In fact, it was an old poem passed down from generation to generation. Nanny opened her mouth to sing a low, hoarse melody,

Born in the morning,

Woe without warning;

Afternoon child

Woeful and wild;

Born in the evening,

Woe ends in grieving.

Night baby borning

Same as the morning.

The old proverb was strange and sad, and though Elphaba couldn't really understand what it meant, but it was soothing to her. Listening to Nanny's gently, lightly croaking tones, she relaxed and let her eyelids grow heavy. Before too long, she had fallen asleep, her little brow furrowed slightly as if she found slumber a difficult task.

Nanny smiled, somewhat sadly, and bent down to plant a kiss on Elphaba's forehead. She stroked her hair in a motherly manner, before getting up as quietly as she could and leaving the room.

"I'm going to bed," the old lady announced to the empty landing, and bumbled along to her own bedroom, looking back only to see Frex carrying his youngest daughter, a barely awake Nessarose, up the stairs to bed. Her creased mouth twitched in annoyance, and with another quiet "Hmph" she entered her bedroom and closed the creaking door behind her.

Frex dressed Nessa, who was still dozing, in her nightgown, removed her leg braces carefully and laid her in her plush feather bed. Her bedroom was far more pleasant than Elphaba's, perhaps as a means of compensation for her lame legs, but it was far more likely that it was because Nessa was simply the favourite daughter. A wooden dressing table, boasting a large mirror, stood proudly by the window. The rug on the floor was woven from the finest wool to be found in Munchkinland, and the floor in fact was Quoxwood, varnished and well sanded down.

The little girl murmured slightly in her sleep and turned over. Frex gazed at her in adoration before kissing her on her forehead lightly and leaving the room.

The Governor of Munchkinland dressed in his own nightclothes and got into his bed. It was a large, double bed, with plump cushions and fluffy blankets. He lay alone, and gazed the empty space next to him where Melena, his beloved wife, would have lay. He still missed her an awful lot, and frequently dreamt of holding her in his arms once more. Sighing sadly, he turned away from the gaping space and closed his eyes tightly. As the sun became no more than a few dark, golden rays in the dusky sky, and as the birds quietened down, the house of Thropp fell asleep.


End file.
